


The World's Poor Pessimist

by totallytobedetermined



Category: Grand Theft Auto V, NoPixel
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Gen, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Therapy, This is a Bobby centric fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallytobedetermined/pseuds/totallytobedetermined
Summary: I fear I'm dying from complications / Complications due to things that I've left undone / That all my debts will be left unpaid / Feel like a cripple without a cane / I'm like a jack of all trades who's a master of none***Bobby starts seeing a therapist against his will and confronts the demons he's long avoided.
Relationships: AJ Hunter/Bobby Smith
Kudos: 28





	The World's Poor Pessimist

***

_But I used to be quite resilient  
Gain no strength from counting the beads on a rosary  
And now the wound has begun to turn  
Another lesson that has gone unlearned  
But this is not a cry for pity or for sympathy _

***

“Can I have a human conversation with you, that’s not like… robotic?” Bobby Smith, Chief of Police, asks the newly promoted Trooper AJ Hunter, frustration leaking into his query, “Like ‘ _how have you been_ ’?” 

“Who me?” the Trooper asks incredulously. 

“Yes!” The Chief can’t help exclaiming, not understanding the other man’s lack of understanding. 

“Wait, what do you mean?” 

“Like, you’re not gonna ask me how I am or anything like that? It’s just like, ‘ _are you gonna process him?_ ’, ‘ _which call are you going to?_ ’, ‘ _what kind of ammo are you using?_ ’ How about, just like, ‘ _hey, how’re you doing?_ ’ or ‘ _how’re you feeling?_ ’” 

“‘How are you feeling?’ What’s up? Am I your counselor, your therapist?” the younger man asks flippantly, almost dismissive. 

“No, but we do have a therapist available down at Mission Row if you need to speak to one,” Bobby says, feeling the lack of interest from AJ and putting on a professional demeanor to hide his hurt underneath it. 

“Oh really? How does being Chief make you feel?”

Bobby knows he’s being a little shit, knows he’s just prodding at his neediness, but he can’t help answering honestly, “Terrible.”

“Really? And how long have you felt like this for?”

“Uhhh, I think the second day that, uh, I was Chief,” he admits, not having to think that hard on this question seeing as how he never really wanted the position in the first place. 

“And how can we resolve this?” AJ asks, actually sounding like someone who gets paid to care. 

“Well, either I _die_ , or uh, you muster up enough revolt to replace me with someone else,” he replied, honestly believing either option to be preferable to his current position on the force. AJ looks at him weird though, like he’s tasted something gross. Bobby chooses to ignore it and doesn’t think about it again, rides along with the Trooper and thinks that’s the end of that awful conversation. 

***

Until AJ barges into his office a week later with the worst news, right as he was about to clock out for a late lunch. 

“You did WHAT?! AJ, what the fuck is _wrong_ with you? Why would you think this is okay?” Bobby yells, pulling at his hair and groaning out of immense irritation. 

“Because, regardless of how much you hate your fucking job, I don’t actually want to live in a world without Bobby Smith,” AJ shrugs, arms crossed over his chest in a defensive but stern position, like he’s not going to back down from this confrontation. 

“So, you go behind my back and tell Tony Andrews I’m suicidal?!,” he bellows, palms coming to fold in front of him, his forehead lightly banging against it; utter annoyance incarnate in that moment. He knows whoever’s in the lobby is bearing witness to this, but he’s so angry he can’t think right. 

“What would have happened if I came to you, huh? Told you I was worried and I think you should talk to somebody? You would have either placated me and ignored it, _or_ , you would have told me to fuck off. You… I know you wouldn’t have listened to me,” AJ explains, remaining calm and level headed, like he was talking to a petulant teenager. 

“Damn right I wouldn’t have! It’s none of your goddamn business, Hunter,” Bobby erupts, standing up from his chair violently and pointing a finger viciously in the other man’s direction, “But now you’ve stuck your nose in it and I’m being forced by High Command to go to mandated therapy! What the fuck did you say to Tony? How badly did you actually just fuck up my chances of becoming Trooper one day, you asshole?!”

AJ lets out a long sigh, gazing at Bobby with pity in his eyes, “I told him I thought you were burning out, that there are things in your personal life you’ve been ignoring and that I think they’re bleeding over. I didn’t tell him you basically admitted to wanting to die, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh well that’s great then, wonderful. So… when do I have to do this stupid assigned talk time?” Bobby scoffs, eyes averted from AJ, trying really hard to contain the want to continue berating the younger man. 

“In twenty minutes, if you want. Dylan, the PD therapist, has an opening and said he could squeeze you in. I know this isn’t… fun. But I really think it’ll help you, Bobby,” AJ’s eyes are filled with concern and he sounds so genuine that Bobby can’t find it in him to stay mad, especially as the Trooper continues speaking, “I, uh, actually have the rest of the day off. If you want I can hang out with you until it’s time? I know it must be nerve wracking and… I did kind of sneak this up on you.”

Besides the sudden anger, nervousness and anxiety were the other strong emotions coursing through him right now. He felt a little gross and out of control. It’s crazy how agitated he was at AJ a few moments ago and now all he wants is the man’s offered comfort. 

“Sure. That sounds okay,” he grunts out, sitting back down and motioning to a chair in front of his desk. If AJ was going to stay, Bobby needed him to sit and stop making him even more nervous. 

“You know, it’s not… a bad thing. To talk to someone,” AJ breaths into the room cautiously, like he knows one wrong thing could set off the Chief again. He sits, but still leans a bit forward, engaged. 

“I… Yeah, I realize,” he answers, deliberately short and cold. 

“Anyway, the only person who does know is Andrews. And he’s fucking _Andrews_ , he won’t tell anyone about this kind of shit. He’s a good guy,” the brunette tries to appease. Bobby laughs a little and shakes his head, because duh, he knows that. It’s just the idea of it. 

“It’s… okay, AJ. At ease, I’m not… _as_ angry at you as I was. Just annoyed and blind sided. And hungry. I was about to get something to eat,” he replies, trying to convey that his sudden mood swing had ended. 

“Alright, well how about this? Next time, I’ll bring lunch for when we wait. Deal?”

Bobby can’t help snorting at the younger man, too seldom does he don this side of himself; caring and open and giving. It makes the air around the blonde easier to breath. He nods in agreement as he jokes,

“No Thai food though.”

***

“So, what do we talk about? My childhood? My strained relationship with my father?”

“I don’t know, Bobby. Maybe. But, how about we start with the present. Give me a baseline, how’re you doing right now?” Dylan asks, leaning back in his chair, notepad laid across his lap. 

“Uhhh, not great? Sometimes okay, sometimes real shitty. I don’t know, depends on the shift.”

“And is that how you categorize periods of time and value in your life? Through your work shifts?”

“Well, I mean, yeah. I’m getting divorced, my daughter is never around, I have no friends outside of work and the people I’m fucking are… inconsequential, I guess. I mean, they have their own lives. Nothing else is stable in my life like this job,” Bobby says like a plain fact. 

“And is that a source of positivity for you, or negativity?”

“Uh, mostly negative.” And that’s an understatement, he hadn’t been excited to clock in for a shift since he was an officer, maybe Sergeant, but that was honestly pushing it. 

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

He has to actually sit back and ponder that. It’s a good question, one Bobby has never really sat and thought about thoroughly. There was nothing tying him to this job, hell even this city, so why does he stay?

“Because, if I don’t, if I’m not there at least _attempting_ to care, who will?”

“Well, you have an assistant Chief, a full roster of high command in the Trooper department. There’s always someone who could come in and take over.”

“See? That’s what you don’t get. There’s _not_. None of the Troopers would take this job if there was a gun to their heads. Maybe Snow, but he’s burned out from the last time he held it. It would be an interim role until he placed someone else into the position. And that would eventually end up being Metzger. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great cop, leader, part of command. He’s all the bells and whistles, but when it comes to equality for his subordinates, even for the officers that he doesn’t like or respect, they’d get fucked. Which isn’t fair, which is why the job is fucking difficult. You think I like all of my officers and deputies? _Fuck_ no, but I will never look at them, their position or the decisions I have to make about them with anything other than professional understanding.”

Bobby kind of snaps out of this trance he fell into while he was monologuing, looks at Dylan and then shoots to avert his gaze, feeling a little self conscious about his spiel. 

“It sounds like you’re doing more than _attempting_ to care. It sounds like you care a lot, actually,” Dylan tells him, sounding soft and non accusatory. 

“Yeah, I guess I do. I’m just… fucking tired,” he reveals, slumping back in the slightly uncomfortable leather chair he’s sat on, obviously a new piece of furniture in this newly furnished office. 

“Physically or mentally?”

“Both,” Bobby grunts, arms unsure of what to do with themselves as he starts to feel under a microscope. 

“And are you sleeping well? Taking care of yourself?”

“I mean, some days I sleep and some days I don’t. I don’t know, it’s been that way for most of my life though.”

Dylan looks up from his brief note taking, eyebrows furrowed, “That’s… not normal. When did that start?”

Bobby feels internal panic rising in his throat, doesn’t really want to get into that. Doesn’t feel comfortable enough to reveal he slept like a baby until his sister was killed. He fidgets a bit in his seat, clearing his throat of nothing. Sweat begins to bead on his forehead, when Bobby lets out a long drawn out _uhhh_. 

“Hey, it’s okay. If you’re not comfortable getting into that right now, we can just not talk about it. I don’t want to push you into anything that might be triggering,” Dylan soothes, leaning forward and trying to draw Bobby’s attention. 

“I… Yeah, can we just… I don’t know. Keep talking about work? That’s easier,” the blonde says, sounding small. Dylan nods understandingly, and proceeds to ask Bobby to explain his climb up the PD ladder in Los Santos. It’s an easy topic, even with the inclusion of him and Raven’s relationship, because at least he doesn’t have to talk about Til. The subject takes up the rest of their first session. 

Still, the Chief feels drained when he returns to his office, but is pleasantly surprised to find AJ there, leaned back on the couch in the corner, Trooper hat covering his eyes while he snoozes. Bobby gathers the things he needs to step out for the day, throwing his discarded vest towards the sleeping Trooper. It thuds against the man’s stomach and jerks him awake, his hat flying forward as AJ jerks upwards. 

“Well? What’re you waiting for? You owe me a missed meal, Hunter,” Bobby goads, flicking the lights off in his office and exiting, smiling as he hears AJ scramble to catch up to him. 

***

“So,” AJ begins to prod, munching on a carrot loudly, mouth open, “You feeling better about this week’s meeting?”

“It’s not a meeting, it’s me getting my head shrunk. And, yeah, I guess,” Bobby corrects, screwing his nose up slightly at AJ’s terrible manners. 

“Good! See, it’s not that bad!”

“Yeah, well, when you set up your own appointment with the guy, I’ll believe what you’re trying to sell,” Bobby laughs, throwing down his napkin and righting himself to leave his office to get to his session with Dylan on time. AJ’s leaned back in one of the rickety guest chairs, finishing up his lunch as Bobby rounds the desk and slaps him on the shoulder as he leaves, “Lock up when you’re done, and uh, next time, maybe bring a guy a burger and not a froufrou salad. I’m still hungry.”

AJ’s ringing laughter follows him out of his office and settles his nerves a bit more. 

Dylan is nice and Bobby doesn’t actually hate him, but that doesn’t make this any easier. He knows this is supposed to be helpful, but it’s still just painful. 

“So, Bobby, I think we did a good job at starting to talk openly last time. I think a lot of the issues you’re going through are manifesting in a lack of sleep. Are you okay with talking about that a bit more?” Dylan asks, looking soft and unassuming. 

“Sure… what about it?”

“Let’s start easy, do you notice any patterns in your sleep schedule? Like if you’re having a particularly rough day at work, does that inhibit your sleep that night?”

“Uhhh, no not really. I guess…” he thinks and it comes to mind pretty clearly what stops his nightly rest, “I guess when I think about my sister, Matilda, I usually don’t sleep well. I start thinking about her, or what she might say about my god awful decisions or the men I’m dating and I just… spiral. It’s like I can’t get her out of my head.”

“And Matilda, you said briefly last time that she died when you were young? If you don’t mind, can I ask what happened?”

Bobby feels his chest clench uncomfortably, but there’s also a twinge of relief. Nobody asks him about his sister with genuine care, it’s always brushed off or asked in hopes of getting some gory tale. He doesn’t know why it’s hard to speak about it now, probably because he’s kept the topic close to his chest the last few months, avoiding it all together. He finds himself trembling a little as he speaks,

“She was killed in a drive-by outside our home in Dallas; we were seventeen. These scumbags pulled up to shoot at some rival gang a couple houses down and a bullet ricocheted and killed her.”

“I’m so sorry, Bobby. That must have been… very hard to go through. Being twins, I assume you were close?”

“Yeah, of course. She was the smarter, prettier, better version of me. She… was the funniest person I’ve ever known. And the only person who knew me inside and out. Hell, she knew I was gay before I did! Til was… my best friend.”

“And do you think about her a lot?”

“Well, it’s kind of hard not to. I usually get a couple calls a week for drive-bys. That doesn’t help,” Bobby admits, biting at the dead skin on his lip when he isn’t speaking. 

“Hmm. Yeah, I can only imagine how difficult those types of calls must be for you. Having to relive that on a near daily basis.”

“I mean, yeah, they suck, but it’s been way harder since the accident,” he sighs, picking at the pressed edges of his work slacks. 

“Right. Earlier this year, you were shot in the face, the eye. How do you think that’s made things more difficult?” 

“I never liked showing up to drive-by calls, but it’s my job. Since the shooting, I’m so jumpy, paranoid over every sound and person driving by, and I can’t focus for shit when I’m on scene. At this point, I just wait for another high ranking officer to show up and leave, or I don’t take the call at all,” he admits for the first time outloud, shrugging to convince himself it’s no big deal.

“Besides the panic, what goes through your head during and after these moments? What’re you telling yourself?”

“Well during, I just want to run and leave. It feels like I’m shaking, but on the inside. And then, once I’m gone… I just think about her. How scared she must have been at that moment. How she couldn’t have anticipated the pain or suddenness of it. I think about how… I wish I was with her right now.”

“What do you mean, when you say you wish you were with her. Like, you wish she was alive?”

“...No. Like, like- I wish I was dead too, so I don’t have to keep living each day without her. Because it’s not fair that I’m here and she’s… wherever we go when we die, all alone. I promised to never leave her, but now she’s gone and by herself and I… I let her down. I let her down like I let everybody in my life down.”

“Bobby, it’s not your fault she’s gone or that you didn’t die with her. She was your sister, she _loved_ you. She wouldn’t want you to be with her, she’d want you to live.”

“Yeah. I know. But, most days, I think I’d be happier with her… than here.”

Dylan frowns and writes a little on his notepad. Bobby doesn’t know when he started wringing his hands, but he doubles down on his efforts to distract himself. 

“And you started feeling this way after your attack?”

“No, I guess I’ve always felt like this to some degree. I just think about it more now,” Bobby says, looking down at the carpet and adjusting in his chair for the hundredth time. 

“Do you think about hurting yourself?”

“No. I’m too much of a coward for that,” he laughs, not getting any amusement in return from Dylan, “Seriously though, no. I’m not trying to kill myself, they’re just things I think.”

“I don’t think you’re suicidal Bobby, I think there’s a lot of trauma accumulated in your life you’ve never dealt with. I think that comes out in thoughts of escapism to an extreme degree.”

“Yeah, I’d agree I guess. So, what do I do?”

“I think we start with some simple exercises to help control your thoughts when they become too much…”

***

Bobby shuts Dylan’s door behind him after his session and can’t help leaning against the wood, taking a deep breath and exhaling with force. 

“You okay, Bobby?” AJ’s small voice startles him. 

Jerking his head to the left, Bobby sees the man leaning against the banister of the stairs leading down to the lobby of Mission Row. He has his phone out, thumb hovering over it like he was mid scroll. He looks concerned, pushing up to full height and putting his phone away quickly. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m- What’re you doing here?” Bobby asks, giving AJ his pinched expression of skepticism. 

“I uh… wanted to see how you’re doing, how it went,” the Trooper gets out, clearing his throat and crossing his arms across his chest. 

Bobby can’t help the huff of laughter he lets out, walking past the man and lightly patting him on the chest, “Be careful, Hunter. Wouldn’t want people to think you care or anything.”

“What?!” the Brit squawks, “Me? Never! I care only about bringing justice down upon the low lives of our great city!”

Bobby’s laugh only grows as he descends the stairs. Leave it to AJ to make the tough moments a little bit lighter. 

***

Bobby rushes through Dylan’s door the following week, a little out of breath and clutching an iced coffee, apologizing profusely for being late. 

“Hey, it’s no problem. You’re a busy man!” Dylan waves him off, not seeming bothered in the least, “You look like you’re in a good mood today.”

“Yeah, well, it hasn’t been a shit day,” Bobby agrees, smiling small, trying almost to hide it. 

“How so?”

“Well, my daughter came and visited me at work this morning, the DOJ approved my budget request so now I can hire even more officers to fill the gaps during our shift changes and… I had a nice lunch with AJ. Actually lost track of time,” he tells Dylan, looking sheepish at the end. 

“That’s awesome, what a nice day. You deserve it, Bobby. I know you said you don’t really have friends outside of work, would you consider AJ a friend?”

And if that’s not the most loaded ass question. 

“I mean… kind of? He’s… he was a close friend when I first joined the force. But, lately he’s been more of a… I don't know how to label what me and AJ are actually. We were kind of friends with benefits? I think we still are? We’ve been hanging out a lot more lately though, like with clothes on,” Bobby tells the therapist, confusion settling on him the longer he talks about the Trooper. 

“I see. And do you see your relationship with AJ, however you want to classify it, as a positive influence on your life right now?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ll never admit it to the guy, ‘cause his ego’s big enough, but I really appreciate him forcing me to do this,” Bobby says, motioning between him and Dylan, “I know it’s been helpful, just saying some of these things out loud. And the time I’ve been spending with him lately has been really nice. It’s almost like he actually cares how I’m doing. Which is weird.”

“Why is that weird? Him caring?”

“People don’t generally give a fuck about me, that’s just… kind of how it works. And AJ, before I came back from my break, I guess I wouldn’t have really classified him as someone who gave a fuck about me outside of if I was going to have sex with him that night.”

“It seems like your relationship with him is evolving into a more healthy friendship, that’s always a good thing. But, I wanna touch on the first thing you said, people not generally caring about you. What makes you think that?” 

The question pulls a hearty, genuine laugh out of Bobby at the amount of examples he could give to Dylan to drive his point home. 

“Okay, well, off the top of my head… There’s my countless coworkers who know and then joke about my dead sister. Then you have my ex-husband who said when I tried to talk to him about said dead sister that I was ‘droning’ on and basically implied I bored him. Shortly after that fucked up revelation, he moved his secretary into our home, without telling me, _and_ went on a month-long vacation with her. I guess then there’s AJ, who only started fucking me for a promotion... You can also count the many men I’ve fucked since my separation and continue to fuck who I don’t think even know my age, let alone anything relevant that would show were anything other than occasional fuck buddies. There’s that time I got shot in the face and returned to work the next day and nobody said anything about it. _Uhhhh_ , I took an extended leave of absence, out the blue, and my best friend, Olivia, didn’t call me once or check to see what was going on. I actually came to find out everyone just joked I was dead… Oh! One time, I was kidnapped in my cruiser while waiting for an officer and taken to some shady location, asked a bunch of weird ass questions while a gun was held to my head and then was let go. Nobody noticed I was gone and nobody really cared when I told them. It was brushed off and never looked into.”

Bobby is monotone as he lists each event on his fingers, like he was counting out the number of errands he had to run and not some of the most traumatic moments in his life. Dylan’s eyes slowly grow wider with each new example, frowning all the while. 

“Bobby… that’s a lot. Here,” the therapist consoles, leaning forward with a tissue box extended to the Chief. The blonde just looks at the offered item confused until Dylan intones, “You’re crying. Here, take one.”

Bobby grabs one, but then reaches up to feel the wetness on his cheeks. He’s flabbergasted at the fallen tears, because he doesn’t know when that started and is a little worried he didn’t notice it happening. He wipes away the evidence of his vulnerability quickly and looks away. 

“It’s okay to cry, I know you know that. But… a cathartic release after confronting so many hard memories is normal. Have you ever talked about these things before?”

Fuck no, he hasn’t. Why would he? Listed out like that, Bobby begins to consider why he even tries to get out of bed everyday. He only shakes his head in response and sniffles a little.

“I think this is a big moment for you, no matter how painful it is right now. Confronting these traumatic events is the first step in gaining control back in your life. I’m not going to lie to you and say it will be easy; it won’t be. But I think you’re ready to start making moves to forward your life and maybe even gain a little closure for some of these things. The world fails us a lot, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only thing the world does for us. The next time you have a lingering thought about the ways the world has failed or hurt or ignored you, I want you to focus on when it didn’t. Something as simple as your visit with your daughter today, or the nice lunch you had with AJ. Does that sound like something you can start implementing in small ways?”

Bobby nods in the affirmative, unsure if he can trust his voice to not break on the words he might speak. The tears don’t stop, even though he’s not physically weeping. He can’t turn his eyes off. Dylan sees the stressed state he’s in and lets him know they can end early this time. Bobby again nods, he thinks he’ll need the extra time to compose himself before he has to get back to work. Dylan offers to let him stay and just hang out in his office but Bobby shakes his head at that and mumbles the softest _thank you though_. 

Leaving the office, Bobby stops outside the door and furiously rubs at his eyes. He hopes he can quell the tears long enough to get back to his office and pull himself back together in peace. He’s still wiping at his face when he rounds the banister to the stairs and knees someone sitting on the second to top step in the back of the head. 

“Aww fuck!” a British voice whines, AJ jumping to full height and whipping around to face Bobby. His face crumbles from the pained expression he was wearing when he takes in the sight of Bobby’s red, puffy eyes. 

“Hey, are you okay?” AJ asks softly, reaching a hand out, only for Bobby to jerk back. The younger man withdraws his touch and struggles with what to say, just as Bobby does. The blonde makes the split decision to attempt to juke the Trooper and continue down the stairs like nothing happened. He fails, AJ grabbing his upper arm when he attempts to squeeze past him on the right and turns the Chief to face him. 

Bobby’s expecting AJ to stumble his way through a sentence or flood him with questions. He’s shocked to his core when the taller man just wraps his strong arms around him and envelopes him in a bear hug. Genuinely stunned, Bobby just lets his head be pressed to the hard vest under AJ’s work shirt and squeezes his eyes shut when a large hand finds its way into the soft, fine hairs at the nape of his neck. Feeling warm and safe for the first time since he can remember, the blonde can’t help the shuttered little breath he takes in when he wraps his arms around AJ’s torso, holding on like his life depends on it. 

Petting through his locks and rubbing slowly across his back, AJ begins a soft mumble into the side of Bobby’s head, “It’s okay, you’re okay. I got you.”

It breaks him. He wasn’t really crying in Dylan’s office, but now he was full on sobbing. Tears and snot mingled, collecting and soaking into the Trooper’s shirt as Bobby shook in his arms softly from the cries wracking his body. AJ’s hold on him only tightens, trying to pull the older man further into his embrace even though that was impossible. His hands bunch in the back of AJ’s shirt and pull as his chest begins to throb. The brunette’s calming words cease as he begins a gentle shushing that hits Bobby in the heart. 

The Chief feels like he’s cracking apart, and that his insides are threatening to spill out. He’s never in his life cried this _hard,_ not outside of childhood. Even after Matilda’s funeral, he just hid away and stared blankly at a wall for a couple days, lightly crying on and off, but still, not like this. He guesses this is probably years of ignored emotions bubbling to the surface. And unsurprisingly, it’s uncontrollable. Without AJ, he thinks he’d probably fall to pieces right where he stands. 

A booming laugh that tears at Bobby’s eardrums echoes up the stairwell they’re huddled together in; Raven. Bobby pulls back as far as AJ’s grasp will allow him, a horrified look taking over his face as footsteps on stairs begin to sound loudly. Quickly looking around him, Bobby can see a plan take over AJ’s thoughts just before the man starts moving towards an unmarked door, hand anchored on to Bobby’s upper arm again, dragging him along. He barely gets the chance to see it’s a maintenance closet they’re retreating into when the younger man yanks the door closed and presses against him once more due to lack of space, pulling the Chief back into an embrace. 

The darkness of the closet is the perfect reprieve for Bobby to nuzzle back into AJ’s hold with almost no embarrassment. He almost preens when a hand returns to massaging his scalp and he feels AJ’s cheek press against the side of his head again. Outside they can hear Raven and Divine talking boisterously about something before continuing their way up the stairs, probably to take out the helicopter. The surprise of his ex-husband approaching shocked most of the hysterical crying out of his system, but he still feels like he needs the comfort of AJ holding him. He latches onto the Brit like he could slip away and finds himself placated when AJ squeezes him back. 

He doesn’t know how long they stand like this, but it’s a while. He finally pulls back when he notices the tears on his face and neck have fully dried. He can only see the faint outline of AJ from the light shining in from under the door. His heart aches. The Trooper is beginning to ask _are you okay_ , when Bobby cuts him off, rising on his toes and laying a soft kiss on AJ’s chapped lips. He cups his face, fingers brushing over the stubble as he keeps the kiss sweet and innocent. 

“Thank you,” Bobby mumbles after he finally disengages, going in for one last encompassing hug, arms wrapping around the brunette’s neck, before pulling back and hastily exiting the closet. He doesn’t wait for AJ to ruin the moment with some dumb question or remark, just heads down the stairs back to his office. 

***

The Trooper is clocking in when Bobby spots him. It’s a shitty day for the blonde and it hasn't even technically started yet. He desperately wants a distraction or outlet, but Dylan’s out of the office for the week and he doesn’t know how to cope, until he sees AJ. 

“Can we ride together today?” Bobby asks, sneaking up on the man as he finishes logging in on the computer behind the station’s front desk. 

“What? For real? You sure you’re allowed to leave the office, I thought there was a rule against that?” the brunette jokes, spinning around with a giant smile plastered on his face. It wanes a bit as he takes in the deep, dark circles under his soft blue eyes, “You look tired as _fuck_ , Bobby.”

“Yeah, haven’t slept much the last couple days. I wanted to get out of Mission Row before I fall asleep on the next person that requests my time to complain about something stupid. That cool?” 

“Yeah, of course. Let’s get outta here before you’re ambushed,” the Trooper agrees. They hop into a cruiser and thankfully make their way to patrol Vinewood without any interruptions. Bobby sinks into the passenger seat, slouching down and pulling on his dark sunglasses. Folding his arms, the blonde’s chin drops to his chest and he lets out a sigh he’s been holding for longer than he realized. AJ can’t help stealing glances at him, worried but unsure of how to broach the topic, especially since last week. He decides to just go for it, what is Bobby gonna do? Jump out of a moving car?

“I know you’re not one to answer questions like this when asked, but… Are you okay?” AJ tries, white knuckling the steering wheel and staring ahead at the road. 

Bobby’s head turns and levels him with a discerning stare, or so AJ assumes, he can’t actually see through the black tint of his glasses. The Chief holds that gaze until AJ starts to feel it burn against the side of his face, uncomfortable. He clears his throat and fidgets in the driver’s seat, waiting for a reply. 

“No. Not particularly. Today… is a bad day,” Bobby relents, finally taking his eyes off AJ to stare out the passenger window, arms still rigidly crossed like he’s protecting himself. 

“Yeah? Why’s that?” the younger man probes, hoping Bobby will just talk to him, get whatever is gnawing at him out of his system. 

“...Swear you won’t tell anyone? Like on your mom’s life?”

“Yeah, sure. My lips are sealed. What’s up?”

“Today’s… uh, today’s my birthday. And I really, really fucking hate my birthday,” Bobby gets out under his breath, like he hopes AJ doesn’t actually hear. 

The brunette sits there in silence. He wants to ask a million questions. _Why? Is it because no one remembered? Is it because you’re getting old? Do people never buy you the right gifts? Are you mad at me, ‘cause I didn’t even know?_ But, he doesn’t say any of those things. He sits in quiet contemplation before speaking, knows his inane chatter has a tendency of spooking Bobby and making him clam up completely. AJ really wracks his mind and thinks about Bobby as a person for a few long moments before he glances over at the man. The sunlight is shining off his silver earring, making the Trooper squint when it hits him. 

“‘Cause it’s her birthday too,” AJ whispers, not fully realizing he’s said that out loud until Bobby whips around to face him again. 

“Yeah… it’s not… a fun day for me,” he adds, clearing his throat and diverting his eyes from looking at the younger man. He suddenly feels exposed, like AJ is staring at his gooey, fragile insides. 

“Is…” he falters for a moment before continuing, “Is that why you haven’t been sleeping well?”

“Yeah, I never do the couple days leading up to it. It’s okay though, I’m used to it,” Bobby tells him, plastering a pained smile on his face that AJ wishes he could physically wipe away. 

“Is there… anything I can do, you know, to make it less shitty?” 

“Yeah, you can keep me on calls all day so I don’t have any down time to think. Can you manage that?” the blonde asks him, moving in his seat a bit. 

“Absolutely. I’m a Trooper now, I can commandeer anyone I want, even our Chief,” AJ boasts, putting on a silly and faux macho tone, trying to lift the melancholy air in the cruiser and hopefully some of Bobby’s spirits. 

“Great. And uh, can you just make sure not to take us to any drive by’s? I… it’s just-”

AJ doesn’t even let Bobby finish his thought, interrupting so he doesn’t have to finish, “Of course! I’m not gonna waste my shift with the Chief on _boring_ calls. It’s gonna be all bank trucks, vault attempts and power plant shootouts today! Wahoo!”

Bobby can’t stop the small puff of laughter that escapes him. AJ may be a brain dead moron when it comes to emotions, but he’s been going the extra mile when it comes to their friendship recently. Bobby would be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful to have the man doting on him like he has lately. He thinks AJ is probably one of the only people he feels safe around anymore. 

Gazing out the window as AJ radios in that they’re going to respond to a convenience store robbery in Paleto, he can’t help remembering the night Jordan Steele held him hostage. He wasn’t really that worried about dying then. Yeah, Steele is a crazy, slightly unhinged asshole, but he didn’t really think the man had it in him to kill him. Use him as a pawn to get what he wanted? Sure. But not actually pull the trigger on his boss. 

The thing that sticks out for him about that night was the concern and fear in AJ’s voice as he tried to negotiate with Steele over Bobby’s release. The anxiety laced in his voice when the brunette had shouted, _begged_ really, for Steele to just pull over. Bobby remembers the complete lack of hesitation in killing a coworker from AJ when Steele pulled out a gun, like the then Sergeant didn’t care, didn’t even consider the consequences when the danger of Bobby getting hurt became really real. Running out of that cruiser, Bobby was sure he had been shot. The adrenaline coursing through him took over every rational thought as he lept over a banister and down to another level of the structure they were on. He was so scared and shocked. Bobby didn’t really come to, not until AJ came over and touched his arm, asked him questions that the Chief couldn’t remember. They weren’t important, not in the long run. 

What was important was that maybe AJ always cared. Maybe AJ has always been in the wings waiting to be that safe place for Bobby. And maybe Bobby was just too far up the ass of his own depression that he never noticed.

He doesn’t dwell on this notion though, as comforting as it may be. Bobby doesn’t dwell on much that could bring him happiness. He instead clears his throat and begins to radio the first responding units to the robbery regarding specifics about the car and perpetrators. He’s ready to stop dwelling on anything that isn’t catching bad guys. 

***

AJ can’t put his finger on which of his nagging attempts worked on Bobby, but one of them did. That’s why the man is sitting next to him in his apartment, helping the Trooper make his way through an eighteen pack of some shitty light beer. They’re watching American football, which AJ doesn’t fully understand the rules to, but that’s okay. ‘Cause every time he gets out a slightly tipsy question, Bobby laughs, calls him dumb and explains it. 

It’s a nice night and the brunette is glad he can offer continued distractions to Bobby on a day that must be pretty miserable for him. He has put every ounce of effort he has in keeping the Chief busy today, and it has seemed to work for the most part. Besides the exhausted state of his face, Bobby seemed like his usual self if you didn’t know him that well. And when AJ thinks about it, not many of his coworkers know the man at all. 

There was Raven, but AJ doesn’t think that asshole has ever known or cared to know who Bobby was. You have Copper, but lately she’s seemed distant with her once best friend, so she’s out. He couldn’t really count Malton, Toretti or Larry, they just flocked around Bobby when they needed something. There has to be a couple, right? Or was AJ it?

“See? That’s a two point conversion attempt. Which is a risky play usually, but not with the other team’s defense. They’re literal horse shit,” Bobby explains, pulling AJ from his thoughts. He looks over at the blonde whose eyes are focused on the TV as he takes a long pull from the bottle of beer in his grip. He watches the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way Bobby lightly gasps in air after such a long drink. AJ thinks this is where he usually would get horny, would be ready to take the night a step further. And, yeah, he could, I mean, it’s _Bobby_. AJ’s always ready to take things further with him, but there’s an ache in his chest that decisively says that isn’t what he wants from the other man tonight. If he’s being honest, he just wants to wrap the blonde up in his arms like he had last week in the Mission Row stairwell. 

“Are you even listening to me? You’re the one who asked how it works,” Bobby giggles, hiccuping a bit at the end of his sentence, turning to face AJ. 

“I’m listening, I’m listening,” he placates, lulling his head against the edge of the couch he’s leaned back on, “I’m just tired is all.”

“Yeah, me too,” the blonde agrees, quickly downing the last of his beer and setting it on the coffee table with a little too much vigor. They’re both a bit drunk. 

“Well, let's go to bed then,” AJ says, capitalizing on his agreeance by turning off the TV and standing up with only a bit of a wobble. He holds a hand out to Bobby who stares at the palm for a moment, seeming to be in contemplation before he shrugs and takes the brunette’s offered assistance. 

They’re not three sheets to the wind, but AJ still feels light headed when Bobby squeezes his hand and looks at him with lit up eyes, he hopes his smile in return isn’t too goofy. He leads the older man to his room and proceeds to rip off his clothes and throw them whichever way is convenient. Left in only his briefs, he crawls under his covers and watches as Bobby does the same. The room is dark aside from a yellowish street light that shines in through the cracks in AJ’s cheap plastic blinds. Bobby gets under the comforter and crawls to the younger man, placing his hands on his tan chest and pushing himself up to kiss at the Trooper’s lips. 

AJ can’t not return such a sweet kiss, loves the slightly bitter taste of cigarettes, mint and beer that somehow sums up the man completely. He hopes he doesn’t ruin things as he grabs the fair wrist that was inching down towards his underwear, stopping Bobby in his tracks. The blonde pulls back from their demure kiss and raises an eyebrow, silently asking _What’re you doin’?_

AJ just shakes his head and pulls Bobby’s body flush with his. The surprised grunt of air that leaves Bobby as his chest hits AJ’s makes the Brit laugh a little before wrapping him up in his arms. He sees the message come across clearly to Bobby as he sighs and gets comfortable, sinking into AJ a bit as he rests against him. He’s glad there’s not a discussion, doesn’t know what he would say or how he would explain that he just wants to cuddle his former boss all night. 

He waits for god knows how long until the older man’s breathing levels out. Looking down, AJ can’t take his eyes away from Bobby’s sleeping expression. His mouth is turned downwards in a perpetual frown and his brows are furrowed, drawn together uncomfortably. He hopes the man doesn’t stir as he can’t help reaching out to massage between his eyebrows with the most gentle touch, hoping to coax away the worry that plagues Bobby even as he sleeps. They loosen slowly but surely, and the muscles untightening forces the droop of his lips to return to a neutral position as well. The blonde immediately looks ten years younger, his mouth opening a tiny amount to take in sleepy breaths and his hand twitching against AJ’s chest. 

In that moment, with Bobby more at peace than AJ’s ever seen him, it’s like his body gives him permission to rest. Relaxing back into his pillow, AJ focuses on the feeling of Bobby’s warm skin beneath his fingertips and falls into an easy slumber. 

He dreams of soft laughter, blonde locks tickling his face and the light, barely there scent of tobacco. 

***

“How would you say it went?”

“It was… manageable.”

“That’s… good?” Dylan asks Bobby, slight confusion on his face.

“It was better than most of the birthdays in my life, so yeah. I’d say it was at least okay,” Bobby answers, seeming distracted. It’s not that this question is easy, it was still a really painful day for him. It just… was a weird day. He’s glad it’s over, but-, “AJ acted weird.”

“How so?”

“Well, he didn’t want to have sex with me.”

“Okay, but I thought you said it was nice having him around?”

“No, it absolutely was. He was there my whole shift and I spent the night getting a little drunk and explaining football to his dumb, British ass. _Real_ football. It’s just… When we hang out, we always end up having sex. It’s just the way we work,” he tries explaining to the therapist. He can’t put his finger on why he keeps thinking about it, but it has plagued him ever since he crept out AJ’s door before he woke up the next morning, not wanting his awkwardness to ruin what was just short of a perfect night for Bobby. 

“And do you think that lessened the importance or pleasure you took from your time with him?” Dylan asks, engaged with the scenario more than Bobby was hoping for. He doesn’t like these relevant questions. 

“Uh, no. Not at all. It was a rare, stress-free day, work wise. And being around AJ is always something I look forward to. It’s just… I don’t know. I keep thinking about it though, that night. It was so odd… not in a bad way. Just in a way I’ve never felt,” Bobby admits, wringing his hands a bit. Dylan sighs and when Bobby meets his eyes, he sees a little bit of sadness in the therapist’s gaze. It makes his stomach churn. 

“You’re not used to people caring about you because they genuinely care. You’re used to people caring about you to get something. I don’t think AJ is after anything but making sure you’re okay, and that’s difficult for you to accept.”

Bobby opens his mouth to say something in rebuttal and gets stuck there, jaw open and words dead in his throat. His stomach only churns more, his heart thumping uncomfortably. He feels a wave of anguish roll over him, stuck in the thought of _Why would anyone_ really _care about me? I’m worthless._

He feels it happen this time, the tears swell in his eyes, distorting his vision for a second before cascading down. He begins to cry and a small sound of discomfort slips out before he’s slightly bending over his knees, hands coming up to cup his face. He hears Dylan say his name, hears the tissue box be set and slid against the glass table between them and reaches out for a couple without looking up. He dries the tears even as his quiet sobs continue, wanting to wash away the evidence as soon as they appear. It goes on longer than he’d anticipated, body trembling minutely. 

It takes a few minutes of unleashing the crushing sorrow behind his sternum and then the eventual drying of his face before Bobby gets a handle on the grief. He leans back and looks away for a few moments while he draws in sharp breaths, steadying himself to face Dylan. He does it with his usual weird, self deprecating humor,

“Well, you’re good Doc, I’ll tell ya that. Making me cry like a baby. This is how it goes in all the shows, huh?”

“Bobby.” Dylan fixes him with a stare that says _I’m not letting you run from this_ , “Crying is a cathartic release of emotions. It’s a healthy thing to allow yourself to experience. You are facing truths about yourself that you’ve never considered. Remember to give yourself a break, you deserve it.”

And Bobby feels like he could break down all over again at that last bit of comfort. But, he doesn’t. He gives Dylan a watery smile and promises, 

“Yeah, I’ll try.”

***

AJ’s reclining on the sofa in his office again when he comes back from his latest session with Dylan. Yeah, he cried again, but it was controllable. He actually felt a little bit lighter, not as heavy and tired as he had. And he looked relatively okay now, his eyes were an acceptable amount of red and swollen. He’s glad to see the younger man there even if he also sees the incoming group of State Troopers making their way inside the lobby of MRPD. They both hear Copper’s loud guffaw trickle in, even as it’s dampened by the office door and AJ suddenly sits up and straightens his back. It makes Bobby’s chest fill with pride and happiness for the man, even if he does have the Chief’s dream job. He looks so good in the uniform and Bobby knows they’ve only become a stronger police department since AJ’s addition to the San Andreas State Police. 

His door bangs open as Copper, Soze, and Andrews burst in, loudly talking crap about something or someone, who knew?

Of course their time in the Chief's office is short lived, really just there to briefly give Bobby hell and then corral AJ away to participate in some “Trooper Shit.” He waves them off and laughs, ready to sit down and hopefully crank out some long overdue paperwork, when his door busts back open and AJ comes flying in.

“Hey, so, I didn’t get a chance to say but, uh, I hope it went well with Dylan today! Maybe we can talk about it at dinner? I found this new Italian place up in Rockford Hills. They have the best fettuccine alfredo, I swear. You in?”

Bobby’s lips pull into a large grin and nods, feels his cheeks dust with warmth just a bit. He’s not sure if he’s fully ready to allow himself true kindness or happiness, but he is going to take the therapist's advice and go easier on himself, allow himself more moments of vulnerability. He figures this is as good of a start as any, with AJ.

“Yeah. I’m in.”

***

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request from one of my fav Bobbert stans (idk if they wanna be identified here, so imma leave it at that). I had so much fun working on this and loved being able to deep dive into Bobby as a character. 
> 
> As usual, this is only edited by me and my demons, so forgive any errors please.
> 
> The title and song lyrics come from The Grand Optimist by City and Colour
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed! <3


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